" What, this? That's nothing to worry about, just a minor scratch from that last skirmish. It will heal fast. Besides, it is hardly bothering me in the slightest. "
“ A grand warrior you may be, milord, a liar you are not. ”
How many a time had he smiled through his own pain for the comfort of another? He recalls an inkling of a memory - Chrom clumsily falling from a tree some many years ago in the castle courtyard, and a distressed little Lissa who had witnessed the entire thing. He had smiled despite an injured arm, simply to stop her flow of tears as she fretted over his well-being. It feels like a lifetime ago, yet even now he smiles, despite wincing when touching the wound just moments ago - yes, he had noticed, no matter how hard Chrom had tried to be discreet.
Frederick can sympathize, what with the heavy burdens of war it’s far too grand a task to shoulder alone; a waver in their leader’s composure could shatter group morale, causing unrest in the ranks. Despite this he cannot turn a blind eye; even the smallest graze can seize a nasty infection, any weapon could be coated in life-threatening toxins. There were always a number of unforeseen possibilities and each had to be accounted for, and Frederick would take being wary over being careless any day.
“ Please go and seek out Libra to get it checked - minor or not. Should anyone ask for you I will tell them you were tired. ”
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